Small Blessings
by rose-colored-sunset
Summary: The men of Stalag 13 learn that blessings can come in many forms — even forms they may not expect.
1. Chapter 1

_Chapter One_

Some people have told me that you never truly appreciate something until it's gone. You try to make the best of each day...experiencing the small, happy moments and struggling with the difficult battles. I really do believe in the saying, _Take things as they come._ You can never know with certainty what will happen, no matter how much you would like to have control over every outcome in life.

I still remember what happened when I went into the tunnels last summer. I was about to wire some explosives together for an upcoming mission from the Underground. But then I found _him,_ lying next to the ladder that led up to the tree stump.

At first I was taken aback. How did he get down here? Was he still... _alive_? I took a step closer, peering at him with concern.

He wasn't moving. One of his legs was bent at an awkward angle, from what I could tell, as if it was broken. Panic set in then — as carefully as I could, I took him up in my arms and moved to carry him to the medic's barracks. I tried to ignore my friend Peter Newkirk as I climbed into the living quarters of Barracks 2.

"Oi, there you are Andrew!" he said to me with a huge smile. "We thought you'd gotten lost down there..."

The glow in Newkirk's eyes dimmed, and his attention quickly shifted to the sorry fella in my arms.

"Carter, what in the blazes—?" he began.

But I didn't give him the chance to finish before I hurried out of the barracks. Thankfully I didn't have far to go — the camp medic, Sergeant Joe Wilson, resided in Barracks 4.

"Hang in there, buddy," I whispered. "I'm gonna help you the best way I can."

...

When I found Sergeant Wilson to explain the situation, he looked at me like I had sprouted another head. No — make that _two_ heads.

"Okay," said Wilson after a lengthy pause, "let's see what I can do for our... _friend_."

I sighed in relief. I couldn't blame Wilson for reacting the way he did. After all, I had been just as surprised to find the poor guy down there in the tunnels to begin with. I followed Wilson to the designated medical building on the Stalag 13 compound.

Once we got there, hours seemed to pass in a blur. I didn't know how long we were actually there, but everything had suddenly come to a standstill in my state of concern. Eventually, Wilson finished his examinations and was able to set the fracture back in place.

"I'll make sure to keep an eye on him as he recovers," Wilson assured, with a small twitch of his mouth. "I have to say, though, this is definitely a first for me."

He glanced over at his patient, and the twitching persisted.

"To think I became a combat medic for _this,_ " Wilson said under his breath.

...

Over the next few days, I made a point to visit the infirmary at least once or twice. Colonel Hogan initially wasn't pleased when I informed him about the situation. But eventually he agreed to let Wilson continue caring for our unexpected patient. On that first day the colonel took a moment to address the issue with everyone — Newkirk, Kinch, and LeBeau in particular, as well as the rest of Barracks 2's prisoners.

"None of you let the kommandant catch wind of this," said Hogan. "I don't know _how_ he'd react, but after the unpleasant surprise he had a couple days ago..."

He stopped mid-sentence in order to throw a particularly firm look toward me.

"Is that understood?" he asked, still holding my gaze. "The kommandant mustn't know anything."

I nodded, and the other guys copied the gesture. I heard Newkirk laugh dryly as the colonel dismissed us. He wasn't quite out of earshot yet when he said, "This camp's turning into a bloody zoo, I tell you!"

...

 _Notes_

Hello there! Thank you for taking the time to read my first contribution to the Hogan's Heroes world. I'm experimenting a bit with my style and trying a "less is more" approach (don't blame me, blame Ernest Hemingway!) So my apologies if this creates any confusion.


	2. Chapter 2

_Chapter Two_

It didn't take long before Klink discovered who Wilson's new patient was. This revelation actually came about by accident, and to be honest, I was surprised it didn't happen sooner.

About a week or two passed after my initial discovery in the tunnels. Wilson, as promised, made sure to keep me updated on his patient's health. My hopes were high — our friend was actually up and walking around again! The cast Wilson put on his leg made his movements somewhat awkward, but he slowly grew more confident with each step.

Unfortunately, none of us considered the idea that our friend had some plans up his sleeve — so to speak. And this wasn't even the worst part, of course. Klink announced one morning at roll call that Major Hochstetter would be coming to inspect Stalag 13 in the afternoon.

I gritted my teeth when I heard this, already feeling the punch of dread hit me deep in the stomach. All of us despised Hochstetter. Heck, I was downright _terrified_ of the guy! Everyone's nerves got rattled whenever the major stormed through camp, including Colonel Hogan's.

"That bloody kraut's never gonna' quit, is he?" Newkirk mumbled when the news broke. "Blimey, isn't there another Stalag he can go pester for a change?"

"Apparently he can't get enough of us," said Kinch. "He must enjoy our company."

LeBeau chuckled without humor. "I don't know whether to be flattered or irritated."

"Like it or not, Hochstetter's coming here in a matter of hours," Colonel Hogan said. "That means we have a very short window of time to conceal all traces of the operation. You know what that means: batten down the tunnel entrances, keep the phone tap under wraps, and take care of anything else that could give us away. Let's get on it, men."

We did as the Colonel ordered swiftly. With the combined efforts of over thirty men — half from Barracks 2 and the other half from our neighbors in Barracks 3 — the job was completed in no time. When Hochstetter finally showed up that afternoon, barring his teeth at the prisoners like a rabid dog, I felt a little more certain that things were under control.

Boy, do I wish that good feeling had lasted.

"And just what, exactly, will you be inspecting today Herr Major?" asked Klink.

Hochstetter swept his cruel, piercing gaze over the prisoners of Barracks 2. All of us stood in our usual two rows; earlier, Schultz had gone around and checked that all fifteen men were accounted for. As Hochstetter's eyes lingered on each of us, studying the slightest change in facial expression, I desperately wished I could vanish on the spot. A feeling of doubt was wiggling its way into my thoughts no matter how hard I tried to fight it.

 _Please don't find anything suspicious,_ I found myself praying. _Please just look like a fool like you always do._

After a lifetime seemed to pass, Hochstetter turned to answer Klink.

"If you had even two brain cells to rub together, _Kommandant_ , you would already know what I came here to inspect," he snapped. "Three nights ago a bridge carrying ammunition to the Front was sabotaged. Several explosives were used to cripple the bridge. My sources have told me that the infamous Papa Bear is to blame for this criminal act against the Third Reich."

I managed not to flinch when Hochstetter shifted his attention to Colonel Hogan.

"And I know for a fact that Papa Bear resides in this very camp," said Hochstetter, triumphant. "That right now I am looking at the most wanted saboteur in Germany!"

Colonel Hogan sighed — a noise that was calm and had a long-suffering quality to it. How he managed to keep a level head and think on his feet in stressful situations was beyond me, but I admired that natural talent in him.

"Major, we've been through this routine before," the Colonel said. "There's no way I could blow up a bridge or do any number of the things you've accused me of in the past. Not when Colonel Klink is the kommandant. They don't call him the Iron Eagle of Stalag 13 for nothing, you know. He'll throw me in the cooler if I even _sneeze_ the wrong way!"

Klink puffed up with pride at these words. Hochstetter, on the other hand, looked ready to lunge for Colonel Hogan's throat.

"Bah! I know you are lying," said Hochstetter. He took a deep breath, obviously trying to rein in his fury before it got out of hand. "My ring of steel will close around you, Hogan, and when it does..."

Klink interrupted with a nervous laugh, "Perhaps it would be a good time to begin the inspection now, Major Hochstetter."

The other officer said nothing — he didn't even give Klink a murderous glare for breaking his train of thought. Hochstetter did narrow his eyes at Colonel Hogan, however, as if to say: 'I know you are Papa Bear, and even if it kills me, I will do whatever it takes to prove it.' Then he carried on with his inspection.

The Major checked every square inch of Barracks 2 — underneath the bunks, in Colonel Hogan's private bedroom, and even inside the footlockers. The search didn't turn up any evidence for him to use against us, and I was relieved that we were thorough in our efforts to conceal everything.

"Are you satisfied, Major?" Colonel Hogan asked, after Hochstetter slammed the lid of a footlocker shut. "Or did you also want to check up our sleeves for dynamite?"

That remark earned the Colonel a glower of contempt.

"I'm not finished here _yet_ , Colonel Hogan," Hochstetter answered.

He proceeded to inspect a few of the barracks surrounding us. He even went through Klink's office. At last, with his moustache twitching in agitation, the Major seemed ready to call it quits.

"I will be back in the near future, Kommandant Klink, once I can gather more evidence," said Hochstetter. "In the meantime, I suggest you keep an eye on Colonel Hogan. He is a clever and dangerous man."

I felt the lingering weight of dread lift off my shoulders. I sensed this was the case for the other fellas, too. We had lived to tell the tale of another Hochstetter visit. That was reason enough to celebrate in our books!

As I turned to step into Barracks 2, a strong hand grabbed my arm. It was Wilson.

"Carter, I need your help," he said.

"Yeah, sure," I replied. My earlier dread started to creep back in. "What's wrong?"

"There's no easy way to say this, but..." Wilson stopped, swallowed, and then pressed on. "My patient's gone missing."


	3. Chapter 3

_Chapter Three_

I stared at Wilson, dumb-founded, as my mind tried to process what he said. The word "panic" couldn't quite describe the awful crushing sensation inside my chest at that moment. Somehow — through the anxiety or whatever I was feeling — I found the strength of mind to respond.

"Okay," I said, inhaling a breath through my nose in an attempt to relax. "All right. He can't have wandered that far. When did you last see him?"

"Well, I went to follow up on reports of the flu in Barracks 9," Wilson explained. "I was away from the infirmary for maybe ten or fifteen minutes. I know he was there when I left, because I'd just finished checking his cast and making sure he was comfortable. When I finally came back, his bed was empty. No sign of him anywhere. Carter, I swear I've looked everywhere I can think of but he's just... _gone_. Poof!"

Wilson made a large sweeping gesture with both hands, as if he were a magician who had made something disappear.

I nodded and said, "We'll find him...we _have_ to."

The thought of Colonel Hogan's reaction to this turn of events only doubled my determination to find our friend.

 _Oh boy,_ I thought. _Of course he had to go missing with Hochstetter here. The Colonel's sure to kill_ _me if he hears about this!_

I let Wilson know I would join him by the infirmary in a minute to continue the search. The Sergeant rounded the left corner of the barracks and flickered out of sight. I quickly turned to scan the immediate area, searching for...for...ah, there he was! _Newkirk_. I knew he could help Wilson and me.

Newkirk was clever, sneaky — if anyone could keep the Colonel from knowing that something was wrong, it was him.

The Corporal stood next to the water barrel. He was surrounded by a few of the other fellas in our barracks. I jogged toward him, hoping my face revealed nothing about my emotional state. Newkirk glanced up at my approach and gave a small wave of acknowledgment. He exchanged a few more words with Foster and Private Garlotti, then turned to greet me.

"It's sweltering out here today, it is," said Newkirk. He wiped the sweat from his forehead, then he let out a long, tired breath through puckered lips. "Could barely sleep last night, what with it being so stuffy in that proper death-trap of a hut."

"Yeah, right," I said. I paused for a second, trying to figure out how to explain the situation to Newkirk. My next words spilled out in a rush, "Hey, um...would I be able to ask a favor of you? It'll only take a few minutes — at least I _hope_ so. If it wouldn't be too much trouble, of course! You know how much I hate stirring up trouble unless it's absolutely necessary. I'm really not the kind of guy who—"

I was beyond relieved when Newkirk cut my awkward rambling short.

"Whoa, whoa," he said, throwing his hands up. "Slow down a tick, Carter! What favor are you talkin' about here?"

So, with a deep breath, I told him what I'd learned from Wilson just a short time ago. When I was done I saw Newkirk's eyes roll heaven-ward, a hand covering part of his mouth.

"You've _got_ to be joking," he said. "And Wilson's lookin' around for him now, you said?"

I confirmed this by giving a nod.

"We can't let the kommandant or Major Hochstetter find him," I said. "The Colonel's still mad at me for that mishap with Klink. Just think what he'll do if he knows that I messed up _again_!"

My face twisted in guilt as I imagined the Colonel, angry and disappointed, saying, _Not again, Carter. You're a Sergeant of the U.S. Army Air Corps...you should know better!_ I couldn't even bear to dwell on the reactions that might come from Hochstetter and Klink. Those krauts could be so cruel, so _heartless—_

Newkirk's hand on my shoulder jarred me back into the moment.

"Andrew, don't worry about it," he assured. A faint smile plucked at the corners of his mouth. "We'll find that little chap and get him back in Wilson's care. I promise."

I returned the smile automatically, but I still didn't feel that hopeful. Our "little chap" could have strayed into the woods and gotten lost for all we knew. If I thought realistically about it, how good _were_ the chances of finding him and bringing him back to Stalag 13? Probably slim to none.

But despite the odds, despite common sense, I couldn't give up. Not yet. I guess, when you got right down to it, he felt like my responsibility. I was the one who had found him in the tunnels and rushed to get him the help he needed. And yeah, I'll admit it...I had already grow attached to him.

 _Well, here we go then,_ I thought. _I hope you're okay, buddy. I hope you're not scared. We're coming for you. You'll be okay._

I grabbed Newkirk's sleeve for a brief moment as we turned to walk together. Whether the action was to remind myself that both Wilson _and_ Newkirk were helping out, or just some nervous reflex, I didn't know. But as we followed Wilson's earlier route, I let my hand drop back down to my side.

 _It's all right, buddy...I promise we'll do try our best to find you._


	4. Chapter 4

_Chapter Four_

It felt like a knife had slowly pushed itself into my gut when Newkirk, Wilson, and I finished our search of the camp. We checked as many barracks as we could, ending with one of the rows by the eastern side, before we quickly circled back toward the motor pool and the kommandantur. The whole endeavor probably took no more than fifteen minutes, maybe twenty, as we darted from one point to the next in a panicked rush.

My optimism and confidence had both reached a low point. None of the scenarios in my head looked favorable now. All I could see clearly was Colonel Hogan and his disappointed face, looming in my head like a ghost. I didn't know why I thought I could avoid the inevitable — letting my commanding officer down — but I still felt so _stupid_ for messing things up.

"Chin up, Andrew," Newkirk said. I felt him place a hand under my chin and actually try to tilt it upward. "Maybe he'll still turn up some where, ay?"

I glanced over at him for a second. I noticed the beads of sweat clinging to his cheeks and the strands of hair pinned against his forehead. He had a firm, determined look in his eyes, too. It felt like he was willing to carry the burden of hope for both of our sake's.

"That's a nice thought," I said, and the figurative knife in my gut twisted deeper, "but maybe it's time we stopped looking, you know? Maybe we should just accept that our little buddy isn't coming back and we should move on."

Wilson flinched as if he had just been slapped in the face. Newkirk's eyes hardened like wax.

"No...no, I _don't_ know," Newkirk replied. "Since when does Sergeant Andrew Carter decide to call it quits?"

"Since now," I said, without missing a beat.

I hated admitting that — _hated_ actually voicing my pessimism out loud — but I couldn't deny it any more. Not even Newkirk and his stubborn attitude could raise my spirits right now, and that said a lot for my state of mind. Newkirk could always make me feel better no matter what the situation was.

"Guys, this is my fault," said Wilson with a long, miserable sigh. "He was _my_ responsibility, _my_ patient, and he went missing on _my_ watch. Jeez, I could have sworn all of the windows and doors were shut..."

The rest of his words faded away as the three of us approached the main compound. A large group of Stalag guards and prisoners had gathered around the kommandantur, several of whom were crawling on their hands and knees. I could easily pick out the Colonel's voice above the others, as he was currently trying to give orders to the noisy assembly of people.

"All right, folks!" he was shouting. "Can we _please_ get this area clear? That's right, keep moving...keep moving!"

Newkirk took the lead, cutting a path toward Colonel Hogan. I followed behind reluctantly, falling into step beside Wilson and keeping my head down low. I prayed that Newkirk wouldn't let on about what the three of us had been up to. He was usually fantastic when under pressure, spinning lies with tones of utmost conviction. But I couldn't be entirely confident that he could lie so readily to our Colonel.

"What's goin' on here, Guv'nor?" asked Newkirk.

Colonel Hogan turned at the address, and when he recognized who had spoken to him, his eyebrows pinched inward with anger.

"Where have you been, Corporal? Sergeant?" he demanded. I flinched when his eyes settled briefly on me. "I sent out Kinch and LeBeau to find you and they turned up empty-handed. I was just about to conduct my own search before this whole mess started!"

Wilson cleared his throat to get the Colonel's attention.

"That's my fault, sir," he said, bravely taking a step forward. "There was a medical emergency on the east side of camp. In Barracks 9. Nasty flu outbreak. I asked Newkirk and Carter to help with the situation."

Colonel Hogan seemed to buy that, at least for the time being. His tense shoulders slumped and he gave the medic an understanding nod.

"Good, good," he said. "Sorry for getting so worried. I guess my nerves have just been on edge lately." Some of his tension returned as he focused on the men crawling back and forth along the foundation of the kommandantur. "And of course, we can hardly get a moment's peace around here. Carter—"

The Colonel motioned for me to follow him up to the building. I obeyed, swallowing hard as we stopped near the front steps. I worked up the courage to look up after a moment, and that was when our eyes locked together.

"Carter, I have a favor to ask of you," he said. "It involves that little 'patient' you found a few weeks ago."

His words were like a hammer pounding through my chest. I _knew_ he would find out about everything! Now he would scold me for being irresponsible, for not considering the consequences, for—

Colonel Hogan's hand rested on my shoulder. I was jerked out of my thoughts, and was surprised to notice the very faint smile that curled at the edges of his mouth.

"How comfortable are you with tight spaces?" he asked. "Because I have a job for you, Sergeant, if you don't mind getting acquainted with some cobwebs and spiders."

...

 _Notes_

My apologies for the long hiatus! I've been sitting on this chapter for a while, uncertain how to get through it, when inspiration finally struck. I hope this will help me get back into the writing habit, but I unfortunately can't promise to post on a regular basis at the moment. Thank you for your time and patience!


	5. Chapter 5

_Chapter Five_

Let me make one point clear — I was by no means a stranger to tight spaces. But wiggling my way under a narrow gap between the muddy ground and a large, several-ton building, with only a flashlight and my wits to guide me? Yeah, that was _definitely_ not my idea of a fun time.

Before I committed myself to this task, Colonel Hogan brought me up to speed on the problem at hand. He knew about our friend going 'AWOL,' as I had already realized. But what the Colonel said next surprised me.

"You can imagine we were all dumb-founded when Foster happened to look up and spot our friend on the roof of Barracks 3," he said "The _roof_ , for Pete's sake!"

He tossed up his hands, as if anticipating a question from me but not knowing the answer.

"Please, don't even _ask_ me how he got up there or how the cast didn't make him fall off. I'll get a headache trying to figure _that_ one out. Anyway, we stacked some crates and a barrel together and tried to get him down. Kinch managed to grab a hold of him, but then..." The Colonel broke off to sigh, then said, "He got spooked and fell off the roof."

"He _WHAT_?" I exclaimed. Again, hands went up to placate me. If Colonel Hogan thought that would calm me down, would keeping me from freaking out entirely...well, boy, he had another thing coming!

"And _don't_ ask me how he managed not to break something else on the way down," the Colonel added, clearly as confused and shocked as I was.

I pressed a hand to my head. It felt like the world was spinning around me all of a sudden. For a split second, the scared and irrational part of my brain imagined that our friend was actually on the verge of death after his tumble...or _worse._ I imagined that Colonel Hogan was somehow trying to break the news to me gently. But this idea was dispelled a little when the Colonel spoke again, and while doing so handed me one of our big, gunmetal-colored flashlights from the tunnels.

"He's doing all right, as far as we can tell, but he's refusing to come out," he said. "I think he'll trust you more than anyone else here. Some of the men tried squeezing under the kommandant's office to reach him, but he keeps moving further and further away. He, uh, may have also bitten LeBeau at one point."

I glanced over at LeBeau, who had heard the remark and was brandishing his bandaged left thumb at us for emphasis. I waved at him sheepishly.

"I mean, I don't know, Sir," I said, feeling a flash of nervousness. " _Of course_ I'll try to lure him out from under there. But whether or not he trusts me, that's another problem."

The Colonel sighed again, but he managed a smile. "That'll have to be good enough, Sergeant," he said. "Just be careful under there, all right? And try to act as quickly as possible. Hochstetter's still drilling Klink about that explosion, and either one of them could step out here at any minute."

I nodded, tightening my grip on the flashlight. _In and out, a minute or two tops,_ I told myself. _Find him, hold on tight, and crawl our way back out. Easy peasy, right?_

It was that surge of confidence which initially motivated me to crawl under the kommandantur, just as Colonel Hogan requested. Newkirk, Wilson, and LeBeau shouted encouragements at me as I made progress. Seeing them sprawled on the ground - keeping an eye on me and reporting on my movements to the others - was reassuring.

But then my confidence decided to, well, _lag_ a bit. About halfway into the job, I froze up. I could barely hear Newkirk or anyone else at this point; I thought Newkirk was yelling something at me - or was it Wilson? - but I couldn't really make it out. I was suddenly aware of the warm mud sucking at my clothes, as if trying to pull me into the earth and swallow me whole. How far had I crawled, and why did the shadows not look so innocent or friendly anymore?

Naturally, my brain chose that moment to throw my unpleasant trip down the camp well in my face again. I was picked to retrieve a Luftwaffe code-book that Newkirk had tossed in there (you know, because of...reasons). It felt as if I was down there for _hours,_ soaking wet and wearing nothing but my hat and boxer shorts.

As if freezing to death wasn't bad enough, the well had absolutely _reeked._ Oh sure, the water looked clean enough at first glance. But parts of the well obviously needed a good scrubbing down because it stunk just like the ponds back home, of wet mud and the first hints of algae.

After I was pulled out of that rank hole - exhausted, trembling, and more than a little peeved - I made sure to tell Colonel Hogan about the state of the well. It certainly explained why a bunch of the guys had gotten ill those last couple weeks, and of course, Klink was shocked to learn that the guards were failing to maintain the well properly. I also made the Colonel swear _never_ to make me take a swim in _any_ wells ever again.

Abruptly, before I knew what was happening, my body propelled itself into panic mode. _This was a bad idea, this was a bad idea,_ I chanted silently. _Get me out, get me out, please!_

Behind me, the voices of my pals seemed to drift from miles away. I closed my eyes, willing my breathing to stay nice and calm. Then a rustling sound snapped me back to reality for a moment. I counted to three, inhaling deeply after each beat, before opening my eyes again. A small shift of my flashlight, and then, sitting there curled up about two or three arm's lengths away...

"Hey, buddy," I said, grinning with relief. "How's it going?"

...

 _Notes_

Hello! Sorry for the long pause I put on this story. I'm finally off for the summer, so I'll have more time to update this story as well as others. I hope you all are doing well and enjoyed this chapter!

The events that Carter references are from an episode called "The Well." It's actually been a LONG time since I've watched any "Hogan's Heroes," so I'm not certain if the scenario I described is accurate or if it's mostly embellishment. I do have a personal head-canon that Carter has become a _teensy_ bit claustrophobic because of his experience with the well.


	6. Chapter 6

_Chapter Six_

Trust me...I would have cartwheeled with joy if I wasn't busy having kittens.

Not literal kittens, of course! I didn't have the right physiology to give birth to anything, let alone a different _species_. But my imagination, which was pretty darn vivid at the worst of times, decided the idea was ridiculous enough to make me giggle.

To make my life even rosier, it was the kind of giggling that veered into the - shall I say - 'mildly hysterical' territory.

So there I was, gripping my stomach as I sank into a painful and unexpected fit of laughter. The flashlight's beam wobbled in my other hand, so that our friend flickered in and out of sight.

As I struggled to clam up my outburst, he started to back away from my reach. His eyes, staring right at me and gleaming like car headlights, conveyed one clear message: 'Back off or you'll regret it.' The somewhat sane half of my mind wondered what else he might be thinking at the moment. Probably something like, _Don't make any sudden moves, and this wacko might finally scram._ _Or you could just scratch his face off. Yeah, let's go with_ _that plan!_

Honestly, I wouldn't blame him. After falling down into a secret tunnel, breaking a leg, meeting some strange new people, and having to wear an itchy cast for weeks, I would want to get the heck out of Stalag 13 too.

I intended to help him do that, if I could just ignore any distractions _and_ not turn into a loony.

It took years to get myself under control...again, not literally, but it sure took long enough. Then, in the softest voice I could muster, I said, "I won't hurt you, friend. I only want to get you out from under this building, to _help_ you. The other fellas and I are real nice once you get to know us better. I can guarantee that."

He must have taken offense to my voice or something, because in response, I heard a loud hiss following by a deep grumble. I tensed up, hoping he wouldn't get bold enough to lunge for my face.

Thankfully, he stayed put. That offered me a minute to consider my next approach to the problem.

 _Think about this, Andrew,_ I thought. _Put yourself in his...er...shoes, so to speak. What would he respond to the best? Nice careful movements, check. A calm tone of voice...well, I'm working on that..._

As it turned out, though, I didn't have the time I would have liked to form a plan. I started to hear a commotion of some sort break out behind me. It was too faint to tell whether it was my pals or the "Krauts," as we liked to call our captors from time to time. But the shouting was pretty unmistakable.

I craned my neck around, just in time to watch someone crawl rapidly toward me on their stomach. Their face was obscured in shadow, but the edges of their dark blue uniform were back-lit by a warm glow. I knew suddenly and instinctively who it was. I was tempted, like our little buddy, to hiss in strong disapproval at him. Maybe even do a bit of scratching and biting if the mood struck me. Thank God, or whatever mysterious Being was up there watching, that I had _some_ ounce of self-respect and control left. That would have been embarrassing and hard to explain, for sure!

"Andrew!" whispered Newkirk loudly, and every muscle in my body tensed from his voice. "What's the matter? You were taking so bloody long, we were beginning to think you'd suffocated or something. Do you see the chap yet or...?"

Well, needless to say, said chap didn't react too kindly to the presence of another stranger. He shrank back, distress momentarily freezing him to the spot; and after a tense pause, he finally made up his mind. He turned and bolted hard to the right, racing toward the light of the compound and the open space it offered.

I glared pointedly at Newkirk, trying to say everything with my eyes that my mouth couldn't quite form: _'You couldn't give me just a_ few _more minutes under here? Seriously? I was busy working on a clever, foolproof plan all on my own, and you go and blow it all to bits in seconds! Well, I really hope you're happy now, because if something else happens to our friend I swear to all that's good and holy...'_

You could say I was irritated, perhaps even a bit peeved off, but can you really blame me? I'd had enough of this stress and I was ready to put an end to it. I mean, that couldn't be too much to ask of the Power or Powers that Be...right? It wasn't easy to stay positive all the time, of course, and I'd felt the sting of gloom bore its way through me on plenty of occasions. _This_ whole mess had certainly tested my endurance to some degree.

But I've never stopped believing in happily ever afters. My soul was like the bedrock of the earth; despite whatever might be happening from above, my deeper reserves, forever flowing with positive energy, remained untouched beneath.

My gaze softened just a little as I looked at Newkirk. I reached out to squeeze his arm. "Come on," I said. "If we're going to wrangle our buddy properly, we need to get a move on now. No more time to waste."

Then, without waiting for his reply, I began crawling at full tilt toward the brouhaha that I knew would await us.

...

 _Notes_

Hello, all! I promise you'll find out who this "little buddy" is in the next chapter. :)

I haven't updated in a while, but I figured it was finally time to come back to this story. I hope you're all doing well! I'd like to work on my other, Klink-centric story, too, so you might start seeing new posts on that one. We'll see, I suppose.


End file.
